Four Lies and a Funeral
by MarcusJuniusBrutus
Summary: After D.G.'s death, everyone has to scramble into action to prevent a future disaster. Prequel, Ambrose's POV
1. Lie 1: Ahamo's Banishment

"The majestic queen of the O.Z., had two lovely daughters, she.

One to darkness, she be drawn, and one to light, she be shown.

Double eclipse, it is foreseen. Light meets dark, and the stone is between,

But only one and one alone shall hold the emerald and take the throne."

It was one verse in a longer song – prophecies of the O.Z. that Ambrose had only half-believed. When the Queen had recited it upon her return from Fanaqua and insisted that the emerald of the poem was his own Emerald of the Eclipse, as he called that small but vital piece of his future Sun Seeder, he'd barely concealed his skepticism. Oh, he'd handed it over, but he hadn't believed. Not even when he realized that something had indeed changed with Princess Azkadellia.

Now, as she recited the verse again in the dead of night, looking twenty years older, her hair turned unnaturally gray, Ambrose felt himself nodding. Beside him, Ahamo did the same. The two of them, the Queen's closest confidants, leaned forward as she continued to whisper.

"I hid the Emerald, you'll remember, but I wouldn't tell you where. Memories aren't safe, not from the Sorceress."

"You mean Azkadellia?"

"That's not Azkadellia. I'm sure of it. Something is inside her, and I suspect the great Sorceress rumored to be trapped in Fanaqua."

"Inside of her? Then Azkadellia is still here. You just need to get the Sorceress out."

The Queen shook her head slowly. "Maybe under the right circumstances, but not now." She blinked, her face hardened, and she returned to the subject at hand. "The best thing to do is keep the Emerald hidden from her." She handed a small wooden box to her husband. "This is the key to finding it. You have to take it far from here. Leave your name behind and protect only this. There's a secret you'd need, too, and I told it to D.G. Her memories, I locked away so that no one can get to them, and now I plan to send her to a safe place."

"When you woke me up, you said Azkadellia killed her," Abrose said. He'd been burning to ask, but hadn't wanted to interrupt the Queen. This seemed like an appropriate segue, however.

"That's right."

"You said that you brought her back to life." At what cost, he could only imagine. The Queen nodded, and Ambrose asked, "Is it because of that poem?"

"Yes, Ambrose. Whether you believe it or not, whether it's true or not, is immaterial. _She_ believes it, and that's all that matters. If she knew that D.G. still lived, she would kill her in an instant, and permanently. Tonight, I'm taking her to safety, and Ahamo will disappear with the key."

Ahamo shook his head. "Won't she suspect something? She knows I would never leave your side. If I suddenly went into hiding…"

"You're right, of course." She stood from her graceful, high-backed chair and paced her bedroom. She knelt by her deep-sleeping daughter and stroked one round cheek. "I think I know what to do," she said hesitantly. "I have to accuse you of some crime and then banish you, you and your name. In time, you will be forgotten. Anyone who _does_ come looking for you by name, well, they'll be someone to look out for."

"What do you mean, 'In time'? How long will I have to stay away from you?" The Queen only smiled sadly, but of course, Ahamo acquiesced to her request. He joined her beside their little girl, kissed both of them soundly, and then dragged himself to his feet. "Then I'd better get going, before I change my mind." He fled from the room, bare feet slapping against the hard tiles as he stumbled from the room in blind anguish.

"And now for D.G.," the Queen said, blinking back tears. "I'm going to send her to the Other Side, Ambrose, but I don't know who I can send to guard her." Before Ambrose could volunteer, she cut him off. "I fear the sorceress will be watching the two of us quite closely now. Toto, too," she added, referring to the only other person she might normally trust with her daughter's life. "I can't think of another person in the O.Z. who could be trusted."

Something clicked in Ambrose's head when she spoke, and he asked, "Does it have to be a person?"

"Not necessarily, but remember, whoever we select must be able to blend in on the Other Side."

"Well, I think I have the perfect non-person in mind."

"Then it's time to say goodbye."

"Not until after the funeral."

"Funeral?" The Queen blinked, confused, and stared up at him blankly, no doubt a product of her recent trauma.

"If this is going to work," Ambrose replied, "Azkadellia has to believe that not only is D.G. merely dead, but that she's really most sincerely dead."

The Queen sighed, fully aware of the hard task ahead. Her shoulders sagged in exhaustion. In fact, her whole body slumped forward into the bed. Finally, she told her advisor, "Make the arrangements."


	2. Lie 2: DG's Death

The little girl's body lay swathed in a lavender-colored silk gown woven by the Mist Maidens of Gillikin Country atop the green marble viewing platform carved in Central City, a platform spilling over with forget-me-nots from the Munchkins and rubies from the Quadlings. This platform had been raised high above the people, and totally encased in glass. "Look, but don't touch" was the clear message of the setup. D.G., cold and still, remained separated from her mourners by several feet in any direction, and ringed by a gold-robed Winkie honor guard. The Queen sat just outside this circle to accept condolences and to watch, to make sure no one got too close.

Besides these precautions, Ambrose had drugged D.G. so she'd appear dead – even her breathing would be invisible – and the Queen had temporarily masked her magical light. The effort of this was clearly taking its toll, and the Queen trembled with the effort of staying upright in her seat. But she did stay upright, ever regal and ever in control. She knew she had a vital role to act out – she had to pretend that her daughter had just died and her husband had just stolen from the palace, and Ambrose had to silently applaud her. Not only was her performance heartfelt, but it was heart-wrenching as well, for the Queen fully believed that she was losing a daughter and a husband.

Ambrose himself lingered nearby, meeting with nobles and diplomats from beyond the Deadly Desert and a slew of the Queen's own subjects, all of whom had adored both of the O.Z.'s sweet little princesses. Ambrose knew presence was expected, as he was the Queen's oldest friend and close advisor, but he had to fight the urge to flee the square, maybe retreat to the Dillamond Memorial Library for some solitude.

Something here stifled him. He wasn't sure exactly what until a small hand curled familiarly into his own. "Ambrose, I don't want to stay here," Princess Azkadellia told him. Her voice, once soft and kind, had hardened beyond her years, and Ambrose swallowed hard, the collar of his palace uniform suddenly tight around his throat.

"Neither do I, Princess," he replied honestly, hoping that the more truths he told, the more he'd be able to disguise his lies.

"D.G.'s dead. Why can't we just bury her and be done with it?"

"We all want this to be over," Ambrose soothed, locking eyes with the Sorceress trapped inside the princess. "I arranged everything so that it will be as quick as decently possible."

Azkadellia's pink lips twisted into a cynical smile, and she murmured to herself, "By all means, let's be decent." To Ambrose, she added, "But that doesn't mean we have to stay and watch the whole display."

On the one hand, he thought it would be good to get her away from the body. If there was any flaw in D.G.'s mask of death, he didn't want Azkadellia picking up on it. On the other hand, if she already suspected something, she could be trying to isolate him and interrogate him alone. This wasn't their Azkadellia. This was an ancient, cruel witch with an agenda that apparently included stealing his Queen's throne.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I must stay here by the Queen's side."

Azkadellia's hand dropped away, and a petulant scowl cracked through whatever friendliness she'd been projecting. "Of course you would say that. Well, now I know." She turned on the heel of her silver slippers, ruffled dress billowing behind her as she stalked away.

It crossed Ambrose's mind that she'd just tried to recruit him, that she was already lining up the sides for her eventual coup, but that wasn't the thought that lingered in his mind. This little girl who he'd watched grown up had become the most evil creature he'd ever met, and the touch of her felt unclean. He wanted to wash his hands in the fountain of the square, to burst into tears, to take D.G. and the Queen and run far away. But he didn't.

"Trust in the Queen's plan," he told himself. "D.G. will be safe soon enough." What happened to him and the Queen, that remained to be seen.


	3. Lie 3: The Mystic Man's Tin Men

After the viewing, Ambrose watched the Mystic Man enter the Queen's chambers for a private audience and reemerge pale and worn. After much deliberation, the Queen had decided to let him in on the secret. She and Ambrose figured that it could only help them to have someone so powerful on their side, but now, he didn't look terribly powerful to Ambrose.

The two men walked silently to the library/laboratory where Ambrose spent most of his time in the Great Palace of Central City. He had a similar room in each of the Queen's homes, with some variations in design, but they were always isolated away in a tower like this one. They were made like that so he wouldn't be disturbed while deep in thought, but it also happened to be an excellent place to plot in secrecy.

When they arrived and huddled next to the fireplace, the Mystic Man finally spoke. "You're going to need more help than I can offer. If this sorceress is as terrible as the Queen says, you'll need an army to stop her."

"We know. Didn't the Queen tell you of our plan?"

The Mystic Man shook his head sadly. "She was too tired; she could barely keep her eyes open. She said to talk with you."

"Large armies are easily swayed and corrupted. What we need is to surround ourselves with a few good men. Loyal men."

"A small enough number that we can get to know them personally, and keep an eye on them."

"Exactly."

"I see, and since I'm the chief of the city's Tin Men, you thought I could find such men for you. How many do you want me to transfer over?"

"None," Ambrose told him, fingers fiddling automatically with the settings of a cybernetic hand he'd been refining. "If they're with us, they'll be under Azkadellia's sway. If they're with you, there's a chance they'll stay uncorrupted."

The Mystic Man mulled over this thought, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he did so. "So… I'll form a… What? A protection detail for myself, maybe?... Then if you ever need help, I'll send you the ones you can trust. Is that it?"

"That's it. Prepare them for the inevitable."

The Mystic Man stood and walked to the window. His thick body silhouetted in the light of the sunset, he whispered, "War." Then he turned back to Ambrose with sudden resolution. "I'll do it. In fact, I have a man or two in mind already." They shook hands. "Good luck, Ambrose. To you, to the Queen, and to our little secret."


End file.
